


Go Ask Alice

by Lillielle



Category: Alice Madness Returns, American McGee's Alice
Genre: Attempted Murder, Child Abuse, F/M, Psychological Horror, Psychological Torture, Rape, Violence, Wonderland, child prostitution, child trafficking, unreality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 02:13:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2293166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillielle/pseuds/Lillielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Disclaimer: I own nothing.</p>
<p>Alice's Wonderland is crumbling around her, but she has a few more tricks up her sleeve. Or so she hopes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go Ask Alice

**Author's Note:**

> Song lyrics are from Shinedown: "Her Name is Alice."

_I invite you to a world where there is no such thing as time_   
_And every creature lends themselves to change your state of mind_   
_And the girl that chased the rabbit, drank the wine, and took the pill_   
_Has locked herself in limbo to see how it truly feels_   


Bones crunch beneath my feet. An unfortunate side effect of the Dollhouse. I wasn't expecting the grotesque, stitched-together remains of the children the Dollmaker has broken. An oversight on my part. I know who he is. The Doctor. But the knowledge burns as hot as any fire, stings as bright as any poison. It sickens me and so I forget it. Just like he would have wanted me to.

Funny, isn't it? How your own mind works against you? I never thought it would end up this way. Stalking through the crumbled remnants of my own mind, smashing aside every bit of my broken memories. To escape the real world. I know what's going to happen. A number around my neck and a price on my head. But does it matter, if I'm not really there? I won't feel it. I'll be here. In Wonderland.

A fool's paradise to be sure, but can you blame me? I failed. I failed everyone, and I failed myself. Don't you think I  _know_ that? His damned eye-glasses twinkle at me until I long to smash them. I should have known sooner. My poor Lizzie. Afoul of the twisted hands of that monster. I can only imagine what he did to her, in the grips of his fevered, sickening desires. The thought of so much as a finger on my precious Lizzie makes me want to vomit.

Oh, Alice. Sometimes I feel so much self pity, I could scream. The Dollhouse stretches on, longer than I could have ever imagined. How many children has he broken? How many helpless souls has he shattered beneath his boot, his stethoscope, his "trust me, I'm a doctor?" I bet even he has forgotten. A stitched ruffle here, a combed head there. Must remember to bring them all shoes, it reflects badly otherwise. 

To think, I never noticed. I know  _now_. My sins forever damn me, I know now. Their blood stains my hands as surely as if I'd run them through with my own damned Vorpal Blade. The Cat smirks at me around a corner, mangy tail lashing against his emaciated paws. When I blink, he is gone...if he was ever there in the first place.

I'm cracking up, aren't I? Cracking up, and Wonderland feels the damage. I can see it crumbling around me. Child's blocks scattered across my path, turned rusty red with old blood and echoing with forgotten pain. A baby doll's head rolls against my foot, one eye popped out and obscenely rested against the cheek. I'm not ashamed to admit a scream rose to my lips, but I manage to choke it back. I don't want to attract his attention.

 When I slip it free from my pocket, the handle of the Vorpal Blade rests in my hand as comfortably as if it was made for it. Perhaps it was. I don't know, and the Cat won't tell me. Nor the Rabbit, but he has other business now. Taking tea with the Queen while his head explodes once more, no doubt. Pity, the blood is so hard to get out of clothing.

The Dollmaker's haunt is so unassuming. A factory, tucked away. Colorful paints splatter the sides, now decayed and dilapidated. What a shame. He's becoming as broken as myself. I can't help but smile as I crack open the door and tiptoe inside with nary a sound. 

"The train has come with its shiny cars, with comfy seats and wheels of stars..." I hear him murmur to his creations. If I blink just right, I can see him affixing a number to the collar of an empty-eyed girl with patches on her dress and straw-like hair. I don't want to do that, though. It's bad enough seeing him stringing up another puppet, blank faced and shiny-skinned.

"So hush my little ones, have no fear, the man in the moon is the engineer," I finish for him, raising the Vorpal Blade. I see him react, see his shoulders stiffen as he starts to turn, but I plunge the knife into his back instead. Blood spurts out over my hands, hot and red, and I find myself laughing as I pull it out and stab him again, and again. Laughing and crying as I watch him crumple to the floor, his latest creation watching me with dull, still incurious eyes. 

I blink and I am back in the Dollhouse, my knife in my pocket, listening to the hum and clank of the machinery whirl to life around me. A child watches me from a window, one eye patched and stitches bulging across his forehead, blood trickling down his neck.

When I look down, there's a number pinned to my collar.

 


End file.
